We are just going to breakdown this learning curve right here with a breakdown of “Southern.”
By the grace of God, I was born and raised Southern with a powerhouse trifecta of an upbringing split among Alabama, Kentucky, and South Carolina. I don’t know how to answer “yes” or “no” without a “ma’am” or “sir” behind it.
I have my own hoopskirt stories that are a hit at DAR teas. I feel naked without my pearls. I pick a dress with flops over pants any day of the week. Asking me if I want a Coke covers all beverages, while asking me if I want a pop makes me concerned I’ve offended you and you might stat swinging. I’m proud to wear my letters just never while I have a drink in my hand.
I come from the land where football dynasties are made and “Roll Tide” covers hello, goodbye, hell yeah, or even an entire conversation.
Born a Kentuckian and a degree holding Wildcat, I will always be finding my way home. I will always bleed blue even when I’ve had too much bourbon.
All of this makes me Southern and not just geographically (which is the only way Florida really counts). Sweet tea sippin’, glowing not sweating in 105 degree heat & humidity, SEC rooting Southern.
Let’s clear some things up:
- KFC is not like Starbucks. There isn’t one on every corner in Kentucky and we’re not all lining up to see what color bucket they’re doing for the holidays. Now if you replace KFC with basketball in that assumption, you’d be on point. The world stops in Kentucky on game days.
- Depending on your side of the state line, when you say “Carolina” you either mean South Carolina or North Carolina. Those are the Carolinas, plural. They are not the same. It amazes me how many people are surprised I am not used to snow, don’t I get that all the time? No. North Carolina has mountains where it regularly gets cold. South Carolina not so much (except at the moment where our Southern winter has been hijacked). I lived in Charleston. I lived at the beach. Ocean not mountains. They are two completely different states.
- There is Southern, there is country, and then there are people who are both. When it comes to country, I’ve only got a weekend in me. I’ve got a kill shot, I just don’t do sitting quietly, no matter how big a buck. Mudding sounds fun if there is a cabin nearby to clean up. My Saturdays are for tailgating not tailgates and I’ll take grits over gravy at brunch every time.
Don’t get me wrong, plain and simple, I’m not badass enough to be country.
I guess being Southern is just cream of the crop and that’s why all y’all are so fascinated. Or maybe it’s the lack of a Southern upbringing to blame for the manners. But y’all don’t see me out here in the desert asking people if they live in wigwams.
Class it up people! For the love of biscuits, embrace my manners! Be impressed with my historical knowledge! Just because I am polite does not mean I am naive. Just like me not calling you an asshole, doesn’t mean you aren’t one.
When encountering new people, use the good sense the good Lord gave you. I may love Him, but I say f*ck a lot and so help me, the next time I get asked to say something again so you can get a good laugh or if I eat possums or have a Confederate flag bikini, this belle is going to flip her shiz over more than tonight’s ballgame.
Now, if you excuse me, this Bama girl has a game to get ready for! Clemson, I hate it when we are up against each other. You won a place in my heart when you wooed this barely 18 year old girl tailgates, lake houses, beer, boats, and boys. You’re the only orange I like. And I sure do thank you for that shut out against Ohio! But, tonight, on live the SEC!